Title: Reptilian Romance

Summary: "FROSTING IS NOT A LUBRICANT! USE THE BUTTER INSTEAD!" A collection of OneShots featuring various slash pairings and a healthy dose of humor.

Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to TMNT or anything I might reference.

Author's Note: This chapter works with the 2k12 NICK-verse.

...

Donnie/Casey [I LIKE YOUR FACE]

"Alright, so you know the rules and terminology?"

"Terminology? That's a big word for you, isn't it Jones?

"Shut up and listen. Or you can sit there starin' at the screen, having no idea what's going on while I enjoy myself during the game."

"Alright, alright. Go ahead. Explain to me the wonders of hockey."

Casey Jones and Donatello Hamato. Human brawn and mutant intellect. The two were nearly opposites, save for their interest in April and their dutiful watch over the city in the hours of descending darkness. While their attempts to woo the redhead could easily drive a wedge between them, they spent far too much time on the battlefield together for that to be deemed acceptable.

Thus, the humanoid turtle was determined to find common ground. They needed to get along, to fight alongside one another without the strain of adversity.

But first, they needed to understand each other.

As the saying goes: It takes two to tango.

- Donnie's first attempt to understand Casey was to inquire the human vigilante's preferred reading material. When that was shot down with a lewd remark, the purple-masked ninja tried to offer help with homework.

The response he garnished was less than enthusiastic.

Deciding to humor the idea of getting to know one another, Casey had returned the attempt with one of his own, offering Donnie to play a 'badass RPG' with him. "It's totally got swords and maces and crossbows- and the most gnarly monsters you've ever seen!"

Don's rebuttal to the offer had been: "For a fantasy-based game, it sounds a bit mundane. Besides, I like the prospect of keeping my brain cells active, rather than frying them with-"

"Oh, quit bein' a spoil sport!" Casey paused then, eyes widening. "Sport," he repeated, mostly to himself by means of affirmation. "There's an idea..."

"Casey-"

"There's a game on tonight at seven! We'll catch he pre-game highlights and insider-looks. Then, the pre-game skate. The singin' of the anthem. Then, the puck will drop, and-"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't really-"

"C'mon, Gap-Tooth! Watch it with me! Detroit Red Wings and St Louis Blues! It'll give you a chance to see how a real man loses teeth!" With that, Casey flashed a wide smile to showcase his own missing teeth.

...And that's what brought the duo together once more.

Leaving the others at the Lair, they agreed to meet up at April's so she could implement damage control, should a confrontation arise.

-"Alright," the human teen began by way of explanation. "You see that red dotted line? Right in the middle? It's called the Dotted Line, or the Center Line."

With a slightly exasperated huff, Donnie nodded. "I could figure that one out," he said simply.

Undeterred Casey continued. "Now, on either side, there's another red line, makin' a total of three red lines. The solid ones on each side are the goal lines. They mark boundaries and- Are you even listening to me?!" Casey piped up, offended as he watched the young mutant absentmindedly fiddle with a trinket he'd pulled off the table.

"Hn? Yeah, Jones. Center Line, Goal Lines, Ice, Puck, Stick. Neanderthals..."

Casey groaned loudly. "If you can't take me seriously, how can you expect me to do the same?" He pulled his face into a scowl that quickly morphed into a childish pout as he sat back and crossed his arms.

Donatello set the trinket down and sat up straighter, taking in the young human's words with consideration. After a bit of thought, he gave a nod. "You're right. Go on." He pointed to the paper, on which Casey had crudely drawn up a hockey rink with the aid of red, blue, and black markers.

Seeing the purple-masked companion's change in attitude, Casey pointed to the paper. "Aright. See those blue lines? They're called Blue Lines."

"Not very creative," Donnie quipped slyly, expecting the other to take offense.

Surprisingly, Casey didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he grinned and responded with: "Yeah, but it doesn't need to be. Just know that everything in between the Blue Lines is neutral territory. The zone you defend is your Defensive Zone. The zone you try to score in, is your Offensive Zone."

"Sounds simple enough. I think I-" Donnie's words were cut off by Casey rapidly swatting at his knee in a jaunty and repetitive motion.

"Shhh! Shhh! Look!" He pointed to the TV screen. "Players are lining up! The official's about to drop the puck!" Not paying attention to anything but the players participating in the faceoff and the defensive men behind them, Casey gripped Donnie's leg- just above the kneepad- and squeezed lightly in a show of excitement.

Surprised and a little embarrassed at the contact, the turtle smiled shyly and redirected his focus on the television. The first thing he took note of, was the lines in the rink- just like Casey had explained. Then, as the players battled for the puck and Casey began to rattle on about positions and scoring chances, Donatello decided that maybe hockey wasn't so bad.

Then again, maybe Casey wasn't so bad either.

And maybe it was alright that Casey's hand inched its way up the turtle's thigh and had made contact with his plastron before the end of the first period.

During the Intermission Report, Casey and Don made eye contact and held each others gazes.

"So, this is hockey?" Donnie asked needlessly, swallowing hard at acknowledging how Casey's hand felt on the lower bisected plates of his plastron.

"Yeah," the human replied smoothly. "Detroit... Red... Devils... And..." he trailed off, frowning when he noticed the turtle suddenly take on a bewildered expression.

"I thought it was the Red Wings and Blues," Don said, voice soft. He glanced back to the television to confirm this, but Casey's voice drew his attention before he could draw an affirmation.

"Yeeeeah," the human drew out, finally pulling his hand away and slouching against the sofa cushions. "I just... Ehhhh. Kinda lost focus. And there's a team called the Devils. And..." He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Guess I'm just not into the game right now."

Frowning, Don turned and leaned closer. He pressed a 3-fingered hand to Casey's forehead to gauge the temperature. "Are you alright, Jones? You don't feel fevered..."

"M'fine, Donnie. Just... I-uh... Erm..." The correct words seemed to elude the young human.

Donnie waited patiently, giving his companion time to collect himself and configure a proper sentence.

The turtle wasn't sure what to expect. Whatever he could have dreamed up, it sure as shell didn't match up with what he heard.

In Casey's voice.

A confession.

"I like your face, Donnie." Scooting away as far as the sofa would allow, Case rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before amending: "Not just your face. But the rest of you too."

Donatello's face heated at the words as he sorted through them almost systematically. By the time he'd formed an opinion on the matter and prepared to deliver his response, Casey's arm shot up and the human made a wildly excited gesture as one of the teams scored.

-Donnie didn't give a proper verbal response to the remark Casey had made. But he did move to sit a little closer. And he did watch the game.

And, when their night was at an end, both agreed to catch the next game.

And Don had finalized their plans with: "It's a date."

...

[A bit of Jonatello. Still mild, almost cute.]